Everytime A Rainbow Dies
by redfluffydice05
Summary: He watched her. Her skirt billowed. Her hair was gathered on top of her head, which she held high. Just as he remembered from those Wednesdays from the roof. If she saw him and smiled, if she saw him and smiled...a caribbean flavored love story.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha he belongs to Rumiko Takahashi._

**Warning**: Contains rape. And a possible lemon...+.+

Every Time A Rainbow Dies

**.:One:.**

From on top of Brooklyn, Inuyasha watched the sun bed the clouds, waiting, as he always did, for his birds to return. He woke each morning with one thought: freeing his birds. Their cooing pulled him from sleep, called him up the attic steps and onto the roof of his brownstone. Each and every time it gave him a thrill to unlatch the door of the dovecote he had built and find him self besieged by fourteen pigeons, each a variation of white: snowy, spotted, dingy, or wing-stained. Every morning without fail he dropped cereal or seeds on the asphalt roof, recalled the meanderings of dreams better told to birds than people, then watched them fly off toward Prospect Park. As sure as he knew the view from the rooftop, he know his birds would always return to him.

Inuyasha looked out into the graying predusk. Below him, in their apartment, his sister-in-law, Rin, rubbed her belly, waiting for her husband to come in from work. On the street city busses became scarce, leaving Eastern Parkway to gypsy cabs and vans. Store owners locked up their shops, and street vendors packed up their tables. The day was coming to a close.

Inuyasha gazed down upon a couple who stopped to kiss. He watched how the man held the woman's head with both hands as she pulled herself into him. Even if they had felt his eyes, they would not have cared. From above them he could see that the world around them did not exist.

Caught up in this couple, their kiss, and thinking about what drew people to be entwined so, Inuyasha was suddenly surprised by a legion of wings flapping about him.

One by one, five rock doves descended on him, their pink feet touching down on his arms and shoulders; the nine other birds stopped at his feet.

Of his birds, he loved Ayumi and Eri best, two of three snowy hens he found as squabs on his roof. Ayumi was the first to recognize him as "mother," and Eri followed her lead. Their sister, Yuka, however, was indifferent to his attention. Of all his birds, she would be the one to run off with another flock.

His treasured cocks, Souta and Hojo, were brothers with identical black wing stains whom Inuyasha could easily tell apart. Souta was bold, a leader, and Hojo, the graceful one, was proud of his wingspan. Both birds had become his when they followed Yuka to the rooftop one evening, but they had eventually mated with her sisters.

These were the only birds he had bothered to name. The three hens, the cocks, and the brood were simply "my birds." Truer friends did not exist. In the two years since Inuyasha had become owner and caretaker of his flock, there had been no discord, no change in routine, and, in spite if Yuka's iffiness, no defections. His birds needed him to free them in the morning; he needed them to return before nightfall. Only when they died would they leave him.

In an act of dominance Souta hopped from Inuyasha's shoulder to his head. Inuyasha grabbed Souta's feet and carefully pried the bird's talons from his scalp. "Stop showing off for Ayumi. I know she's yours."

He threw Souta up to the sky, then flung the others perched on his arms airborne as well. This was how his birds began their chasing game-running, hopping, and flying in circles around the roof. each bird aimed for Inuyasha, to land on his shoulders, arms, or head.

Souta wanted his head, but Inuyasha swerved, missing those pink feet. He twisted, turned, waved his arms, and ducked. He could not shake Souta or Hojo, nor could he resist his hens.

When he tired or they tired, or when Rin yelled up from the apartment window, "Cut the mischief!" he unlatched the door of the dovecote so they could roost.

"Home," he said in response to their cooing and flapping. "Home."

On his word they gathered to be let into the dovecote, an improvement on the avocado crate from Laken Moon's Fresh Fruits. The crate had served Ayumi, Eri, and Yuka as squabs but would not do as the three sisters grew into voluptuous hens that attracted other birds to the rooftop. In shop class he had made a bigger home with a lock and a swinging door. He had enjoyed building the dovecote and was at ease with a hammer.

"Home, Eri; home, Ayumi; home, Souta," he coaxed, until all hopped into the dovecote to roost.

Only one hen, Yuka, lingered. Yuka refused to breed, which went against the very nature of a hen. He'd watch his cocks do the mating dance, puff their necks, bob their heads in and out, and hop to one side, only to be spurned by Yuka, who took the role of coquette too far, never allowing any to catch her. Even though Yuka had attracted many male pigeons, a mourning dove, and a seagull, Ayumi and Eri were responsible for increasing the brood.

"Home, Yuka."

The lone hen stood her ground

Inuyasha made kissing noises at her. This wouldn't do. He knelt and held out his hand filled with seeds, which caused a stir in the dovecote. Still, Yuka showed no interest. She preferred to roost under the ledge where she and her sisters had been found, although the dovecote was kept clean and the water bowls were filled.

"Don't make me come and get you."

Yuka tried to hop away. Inuyasha seized her, his thumb firmly planted against her beating heart. He grabbed before her wings could open. "It's better when you cooperate," he said, and dropped her in the box, then flipped the latch.

The July air began to cool. Inuyasha sat on his tarred roof next to his birds, his baggy T-shirt pulled over raised knees. Each pair, Ayumi and Souta, Eri and Hojo, and others settled wing to wing. Even Yuka recovered from the indignation of having been handled and joined in the low cooing.

"I will build a bigger home," he told his brood. "I will, I will, I will."

Lulled by the calm of murmuring birds, Inuyasha stayed on his roof well past midnight on summer nights like this. It was his refuge from Sesshoumaru and Rin and their desire to "man him up" for all his sixteen years. Here on his roof he had the waning sun, a cooling breeze, his birds, and eventually, when night pulled down, a place to lay his head. Now that his birds had cooed themselves to sleep he put on his earphones to pipe in the old-style reggae his mother used to blast and his father once sang. With this music, the pattern of stars, the peace within him, he closed his eyes and hung in the summer cool. Only then could he indulge himself in a dream where his head lay in the lap of a girl he did not know, just to smell her, feel the scratch of her long nail against his neck and chest, look into her eyes.

During the time he dreamed of her, he learned what he could not do. He could not fix on her face too strongly, for she would turn into other things. He could not imagine them elsewhere, say, in his bed, for the bed would smother them, or at school, for she would be swallowed by the crowd. She and he could be together only on his roof, his head in her lap as her nails drew patterns over his body. As long as he knew this, she would stay with him and he would have a place to rest his---

A scream.

Where from?

His dream girl fled. His eyes popped open, and his hand flew up against the dovecote. He removed the earphones and set aside the cassette player. Was it a cat trying to get at his birds? No. A cat couldn't climb up to the roof. And the scream was human.

He checked his birds. They were shaken, but more so from his hand banging the cage.

"It's okay, it's okay."

There. Again. The scream.

Inuyasha was now on his feet, crouching low. He crept to the edge of the roof and looked down into the direction of the alley. In the dark he could see the dumpster. Three figures were on the ground, eclipsed but not completely hidden by the dumpster. He moved to the far right side to get a better angle. He saw them, out in the open, across the street in the alley. One guy, his pants down to his ankles, was on top of a woman. The other guy knelt by her head, holding her down while the first guy pumped her with his body.

Inuyasha stayed low, crouching and watching. When the one on top struck her, Inuyasha flinched to avoid the blow.

_Move. Do something._

Vans passed by. A woman who had to have seen crossed the street.

Do something. _Something._

The guy stopped pumping her. The other guy repositioned himself, maybe to hold her down better. Then the one on top, doing it, raised his arm and punched her in the face.

Inuyasha sprang tall. _"Hey, you!"_

The two guys stood and looked to the roof.

Inuyasha left his birds. He ran through the roof door, down the attic steps in a leap, down two flights of steps--"INUYASHA"--past the blob that was his sister-in-law, and out in the street in a matter of seconds, his heart bursting through his chest. They had a knife to slice him up, a gun to shoot him full of lead. What did he have? One hundred and forty pounds of almost man, heart thumping through his chest, lungs pressing against his ribs.

He shot down the block, across the street, and into the alley. Die or be beaten, he had to do what he could for her. His heart and lungs oozed out of his ears, but he was ready to face them. When he had got there, to his relief, the two had fled. He was alone in the alley, except for her. He approached her carefully. She was alive but not fully conscious. He could also see that she wasn't a woman, but a girl, like any girl he'd go to school with.

They had left her with her legs still open and no clothes on, except for ripped panties at her ankles. Her top, bright and pink with skinny straps, had been torn from her body. Her plum-colored nipples were sticking out. Her vagina, a crushed rose, was fully exposed, its petals dripping blood. Her face had been messed up. One eye was swollen shut, and her lip was busted.

Although he had been with her only ten or fifteen seconds, it seemed longer. He didn't know what to do next. Should he leave her? Get help? Cover her? What? What?

Finally he knelt over the girl, realizing he'd have to touch her.

Maybe she felt him breathing. He was breathing awfully hard. She stirred, although her eyes remained closed. When he tried to touch her shoulder, to let her know he was there, she thrashed about like something wild, discovering the power of her legs.

"I'm not them! I'm not them! They're gone," he said, tolerating her open palm slaps. "They're gone."

This would not calm her. Still with eyes shut, she reached out for a piece of him, just to hit him.

"I'm not them!" he repeated loudly. Finally her arms died in the air, and her legs lost their power. "Look, girl. I live right there. My sister-in-law can tend to you."

"No-no-noooo!" She flung herself in the direction of his voice. Her eyes were still closed.

Had she come out of the house like this? A top and no clothes?

He took off his oversize T-shirt, a shirt he wouldn't let Rin barrow.

The girl was in no shape to help herself. He would have to touch her, sit her up, put the shirt on her, if she'd let him. Or if he could get past her bruises, her gashes, her blood, her belly, her titties. He wanted to turn away, but he could not avert his eyes.

She struggled to raise herself. He lifted her into a sitting position, shoulders first. As he anticipated, she fought him. He did his best to slip the T-shirt over her head and guide her arms into the holes, while she wrenched her torso and spun her arms out and cursed him.

He had held frightened squabs but had never handled anything an delicate as this girl. he wanted to be very gentle as he helped her to her feet, but she fought everything he did for her.

He didn't know what to do with her panties. One side was ripped completely. She could not bend to pull them up. When he tried to pull them up over her thighs, she screamed at him in words he didn't understand.. He let them drop to the ground.

Her legs were weak. One foot turned in, and both legs shook. He knew that she would fall with her first step and that she would hit him if he tried to help her. He grabbed her arm anyway. She slapped his hand, as he knew she would.

He refused to let go.

"I know you're hurting, girl, but don't hit me. Don't hit me. I'm not them."

She took two steps, then paused. He reached out to give her balance. She hit him again, in spite of what he had told hr. What could he do but bear her blows?

When they reached the end of the block, she stopped, then leaned into him, allowing him to support her. She opened her one good eye as best as she could and looked around.

"Where you live? I'll take you."

"No. I'm fine." Her accent was thick. "I can go."

"Can't leave you, girl."

Since she wasn't talking, all he could do was let her guide them at her pace, taking ten minutes to complete each city block. Anyone still on stoops stared as they passed. He saw heads behind shaded windows, and he wondered what they thought with their mouths and eyes wide open.

When they turned on Franklin Avenue, the girl kept saying, "Okay, okay." He figured they were near her house. She turned to him and said sharply, "Now, go!" and pushed him away.

He wouldn't leave her alone and said, "You go in first; then I'll go." Before she could protest, the door opened. A woman too old to be her mother stood in the crack of the door before opening it wide. She snatched the girl inside, screamed in what he thought was Creole, and slammed the door.

He feared for the girl. He stood and waited for a sign that she would be alright.

The scolding ended with a slap. The another. He pressed himself to the door. The girl was sobbing and trying to explain. he had to get her out of there. Take her to the hospital, the police, or his house. He had to do something. He banged on the door.

"Girl? Girl, you all right in there?"

There was no answer.

Inuyasha was set to charge through the door when it swung open. The old woman came at him, yelling obscenities and waving his T-shirt as if it wee a torch. He backed away, and she threw it at his chest.

The girls voice pleaded in words he did not understand. She was telling the woman that he was not one of them.

It didn't matter. The old woman, still brandishing her fist, only knew what she saw. He with his filthy clothes on the girl's beaten down body. Blood on her face, down her legs. He standing before her as if he had a right to be there.

Inuyasha backed away until he was running, in which direction it didn't matter. To the heads that looked out of windows, and to those who ventured outside to catch the action, he was guilty.

_redfluffydice05_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha he belongs to Rumiko Takahashi._

**Warning**: Contains rape. And a possible lemon...-.-

Every Time A Rainbow Dies

**.:Two:.**

Inuyasha walked fast. The he ran, down blocks, across avenues, even if they took him farther away from Eastern Parkway. Away from his house. His rooftop. His birds. He simply ran, stopping twice to mop his face, around his eyes with the T-shirt, the one the old woman had thrown at him, the one he had struggled to put on the raped girls body. It didn't help. Wiping would not stop the pictures that played before him. Running could not put any bit of it behind him. Everywhere he turned masks followed him, vivid and distorted. He ran and ran but couldn't shake those sounds, those pictures. The scream, birds fluttering, the punch, one guy on top of her, the other holding her down, another punch-he still ducked-blood streaming from a busted lip, a closed eye, purple and swollen, plum-colored nipples, opened legs, the crushed rose, more blood, arms whirling, hands slapping, mad-crazy eyes of the old woman.

When he thought he would scream or lose his mind, he heard his mothers voice say, "Still yourself."

Inuyasha slowed to a trot, then a brisk walk, and none too soon. Up ahead he made out the distinct crawl of a blue-and-white in the next block. Spending his days on his rooftop did not make him ignorant of the streets below. He had seen enough to know how to carry himself and was determined to pass without being stopped by cops looking for a suspect.

The patrol broke left on Nostrand. Inuyasha slid id hands in his pockets and tried to walk casually in case he was being watched. This was not easy, as he felt he looked guilty to anyone who saw him. Especially to the girl who would not stop hitting him, the old woman who cursed him in her language, and to the eyes who peeped out from behind the curtains. Guilty.

She had to know that he had watched. That he could have been there thirty seconds sooner. That maybe she hadn't had to take that last punch. Her eye wouldn't be swollen, her lip busted up. She wouldn't have had to take so much from them if he had come down off the roof at her first scream. Why else would she continue to hit him when he told her to stop?

He was exhausted but not ready to come home. Home was where he settled, and he was far from doing that. He took President Street, which was still lively with people, then walked two blocks, where there was no one. When his head began to clear somewhat, and the images that haunted him where not as sharp, one thought occurred to him: They're still out there. They had to have seen him, even if it was dark.

Inuyasha turned into Kingston, then thought: What makes you think they're not on Kingston?

He turned down Bedford.

What makes you think they're not on Bedford? They could be packing. If they could rape her, they could just as easily shoot me.

The he heard it again, "Still yourself."

Inuyasha turned up Prospect Place and told himself, What will be, will be. If he had to step to them, he would. He had no one to back him up besides his brother, Sesshoumaru, and Inuyasha didn't carry anything to defend himself. For all the good it did him, he had fourteen birds on a rooftop and, to his surprise, some heart.

Inuyasha returned to his block on Eastern Parkway, back to everything familiar. Even so, he could not go inside his house. He was drawn to the alley and had to see the place where it happened. He looked down upon the spot where he had found her, knelt, and touched the rough ground where she had lain on her back. Though he could not see it, he knew her blood was on the street, perhaps where he had ran his hand.

To look at it, a strip between a Chinese takeout place and a barbershop, there was no trace of a crime scene. Just a place from which you'd naturally turn your gaze. A place where men took a piss in broad daylight and sanitation workers collected garbage from the dumpster in the early hours,

Even though he was not one to throw himself before people, he felt that he should tell someone that a girl had been raped where he stood. But whom would he tell? Could he open his mouth and have sense come out? All through school teachers had implored him to speak up or speak clearly. Talking was not his favorite thing.

He stood up and dusted off the grit from his hands on his shorts. It was then that he saw some figure billowing up from the ground on the side of the dumpster. He approached it carefully, for it seemed alive. Inuyasha grabbed the moving thing. His fingers discovered it was merely a piece of cloth.

The thin material slid through his fingers like silk, but it wasn't silk. It was a fine cotton. Almost sheer. He couldn't imagine why this fine cloth had been thrown away. When he held it up to the sky, he could see by the way the bottom danced in the breeze that it was a skirt.

Instantly he knew it was hers. He thought it was the kind of thing she would wear, though he did not know her at all. He pictured her wearing it.

He opened the skirt fully. It was a free flowing skirt that was tied, not zippered or buttoned. The tie, a simple strip, had been ripped, yet managed to hang onto the body of the skirt by a few loose threads. He looked about. Someone could be watching him. He shook the street off the cloth and rolled it into a tight loaf that he held under his arm. It was time to go home.

Upon seeing him, Rin, his sister-in-law, let out a gasp, an exaggerated one. "Ya look a sight!"

He shrugged but thought,'_Got to get past her._'

Rin did not mean to let him pass. She stood, her belly huge, and legs a big A before him. "And what do ya mean, chargin' through heah wild and crazy, scarin' poor Old Myoga to his grave?"

Mr. Myoga, a country man from Inuyasha's village, was the tenant in the first-floor apartment. He had been a retired photographer for many years when Inuyasha's mother rented to him ten years ago. His mother was fond of saying, "He knew me before my parents were born." Now Old Myoga was decrepit. Inuyasha laughed inwardly at Rin's concern for their tenant. Both she and Sesshoumaru had plans for that apartment as soon as the boneyard claimed Old Myoga.

"The food is put away. You'll have to fix your plate it ya want to eat."

Rin waited for some reply, the usual thing he'd say about her half cooking. All he wanted was to get away from her.

"M'not hungry," he said, taking a big step to get around her. He could see she was all face full of questions and she wanted to talk.

"What's that you got there?" She spoke to his back. He wouldn't turn around.

It was easier when Sesshoumaru wasn't on night shift because them Rin had no use for Inuyasha. She and Sesshoumaru would sit at the kitchen table and dream their dreams. Rin was having some sort of difficulties with her pregnancy and was trapped in the house.

Inuyasha closed and locked his door by wedging the backrest of his chair underneath the knob. He fell into his bed with the cloth still tightly in his grasp. He lay on his back fingering the cloth, thinking that it had been tied around her body. The fine cotton cloth.

He had touched her. The girl. In fifteen or twenty seconds he had seen what girls hold secrete, though she did not invite him. Or them. And he had her skirt. The torn cloth. In his bed.

He took the cloth and unfurled it from the tight roll, then spread it into a full rectangle on his bed. It was beautiful. An indigo sea, streaks of violet, drops of turquoise in bolder drops of gold. He ran his hands along the fabric, searching for the girl who wore it. To picture her in it, he had to see it fully open. He took two nails and a hammer from his bottom drawer and began to nail the cloth to the wall facing his bed.

"Inuyasha! What's that noise?"

He ignored Rin.

She jiggled the door knob but could not get in.

"Inuyasha! What are ya doing?"

"Leave me alone" is what he said, but it came out in a mumble.

"Inuyasha, open."

He blasted his stereo. Some Wycleft Jean. Finally she gave up

Rin didn't really care, he reasoned. She was doing what she thought her role as woman of the house called for. He wished she'd do it elsewhere and leave him alone. He wanted no words tonight.

He hammered the last nail; then he lay in his bed to admire the skirt. He was so struck with the cloth that he couldn't sleep. At the dumpster he could not fully appreciate the colors. The indigo. The turquoise. The violet and gold. But now in his bed with the lights turned off, he saw the design, which was the pattern of as peacock in full fan. Inuyasha could not take his eyes off the colors. And in the semi-darkness it seemed as if a hundred golden eyes of the peacock all stared back.

_redfluffydice05_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha he belongs to Rumiko Takahashi._

**Warning**: Contains rape. And a possible lemon...-.-

Every Time A Rainbow Dies

**.:Three:.**

With the exception of one recurring event, every Wednesday was like every Monday, was like every Tuesday. That Wednesday Inuyasha rose, showered, stepped into a pair of baggy Bermuda shorts then went out onto his roof to be with his birds. Instead of sharing last night's dreams wit them, ha asked out loud, "What should I do about her? It's Wednesday."

For the past five weeks since that night, he had spotted her, the raped girl, coming down Eastern Parkway every Wednesday at eleven-twenty, by the bank clock. The first time he saw her, he felt a strong urge to get to the street, just as he had done that night. Unfortunately, like that night, he couldn't move. He simply let her pass and watched her until she slipped into what had to be Nostrand Avenue. Then he'd stay on his roof and listen to music, stare at cloud formations, or design bigger dovecotes in his head, until the bank clock showed one-fifteen and she returned from wherever she went.

He knew she would be passing through.

He looked to his birds for advice, resolved to take any hint as a sign and act upon it. Ayumi and Eri cooed sympathically, but this told him nothing. Hojo demonstrated the graceful art of diving for lasts night's pizza crust but was cut off by Souta, who swooped down and snatched it.

"What, you crazy?" he asked Souta. "I'd scare her."

The fact remained, Souta had the pizza crust.

Inuyasha turned to Ayumi, who, as usual, was off to herself. "Hey, A-yumi, hey, Ayuumii. Hey, girl."

Ayumi hopped away.

"Don't be like that. Tell me what to do, what to say, you being a woman."

Ayumi did not want to be bothered. She perched on the antenna.

Inuyasha waved her off. His birds could not help him, and he had detained them long enough. He watched them fly away under Souta's lead, banking right, left, and out of sight.

It was early yet. He had time before she would appear. he went inside to take breakfast. His brother, Sesshoumaru, had come in from his shift and was off to bed. This left him with Rin, who was stirring a pot of thick, lumpy, whole-grain porridge. She ate these concoctions whether she liked them or not for the sake of her unborn child. Natural food were better for the baby, according to Rin. He grabbed a bowl, his box of Cap'n Crunch, or "processed sugar," and sat at the table

"Correct me if I'm mistaken," Rin began, "but I did not sleep with you last night."

Inuyasha grunted at her, rather than say the, "Good morning, sistah dear," she wanted. He watched her pour the glop into a bowl and thought, '_Vile._' She read his face well but joined him at the table nonetheless. He would be content to eat in silence, although, Rin would never let him get away without conversation, sitting face-to-face. She swallowed a spoon full of her porridge, took a moment to clear her mouth, then asked, "Ya have plans?"

He never took this to be a serious question. She always asked him this and his answer was always the same" "Naw", or a head shake.

"Ya let this whole summer go by, no work, no studies, no friends."

"So."

"You're not a child, Inuyasha. Ya should be planning. Doing. Thinking about college."

He poured more milk and cereal into his bowl.

"Ya drink too much cow's milk." With Rin it was always some new thing she got hold of from books and magazines. She had come to the house touting goat's milk as "the righteous milk." Then it was soy milk. Now rice milk.

He knew what to do in this situation. "could you be loved," a favorite of his father's. His music was there in his head when he needed to drown out Rin. "Don't let them change you." He crunched loud, bobbing his head while she talked on. At this point The Wailers were much to mellow. he switched to Shabba

Rin had to know he had left her, although this did not discourage her. After nearly three years of Rin in the house he knew her litany cold: He was too much into himself. He sat on his roof, talked to birds, got tanner by the sun loads, ate Cap'n Crunch, had no ambitions, no girlfriend, yah, yah. She could talk and talk. None of these things was on his mind. He thought only of her, the girl, and that she would be passing by in yet another hour.

Inuyasha washed and dried his bowl, watched some TV, then went back up to his roof. It was ten minutes past eleven. He knelt at the edge of the roof, in his "waiting for her" position. He still had not figured out what he would do or say, but he knew he would do something. Perhaps come down off the roof, tap her on the shoulder, and say "Girl, I've been thinking about you. Are you all right?"

He played this back to himself to get a feel for her reaction. As he tried to picture her expression and what she might say, he realized he only had a distorted face to go by. True, he had filled in his dream girls face with her face, but he had wiped away her blood and healed her scars.

This made him wonder if she had healed in five weeks. Could he look at her without pausing on her scars? Would she recognize him and thank him for rescuing her, or would she fall apart?

He began to think that trying to talk with her was a bad idea. He was about to step away from the edge of the rooftop but then he saw he coming down Eastern Parkway, her head and chest high, her gait proud and undaunted as she passed that alley. She carried a backpack and wore a long skirt that swayed as she walked. He imagined it was much like the skirt he had pinned to his wall, made of fine silky cotton, except for its single color, bright marigold. As he watched her walking swiftly with her head high, it puzzled him that she was not hiding and her colors so bold.

He followed her for the three blocks with his eyes, not realizing that he had crept along to the other end of the rooftop. It was when she disappeared down Nostrand Avenue that he told himself that he might never get another chance to talk to her. He ran inside that apartment, past a startled Rin, and was on Eastern Parkway running after her. he stopped to catch his breath at Nostrand Avenue and to see if he could spot her. There were only a few bystanders at the bus stop; not one of them was the girl.

She could have turned on Lincoln Place or gone into a store on St. Johns, but which one? Inuyasha looked into shops along the block. Although he didn't know her, he couldn't imagine her going for pizza before noon. He didn't glance inside Ayoka's Hair Braiding, for braids didn't require a weekly visit. Besides, she wore her hair pulled up on her head, never braided. He did glance inside the real estate office, the money transfer place, and the music store. No girl in a yellow-gold skirt. He tried the flower shop, this time going inside.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Just looking," Inuyasha said. "For someone."

The florist's eyes said, '_Do you see anyone here?_' Inuyasha backed out of the store, accidentally kicking a potted plant.

Why was he running after her? This was crazy. He was crazy. Obviously she was all right. She had filed her police report and gotten tested. She didn't need him to ask how she was, remind her of that night, or stare at her scars. She had passed by with her head held high, not offering the alley a side glance. She didn't hide in dark colors. She didn't need him to rescue her.

He decided to turn back, and there she appeared in her skirt, bright and yellow. She had stepped out of a shop on the opposite of the street and tucked something, perhaps a small bag, into her backpack and continued down Nostrand.

He crossed the street to get a better look at the shop she had come out of. It was a store with Japanese characters painted on the door, and a sign propped in the window that read Japanese Herbs and Medicine, Acupuncture on Premises.

He didn't want to go inside; he just wanted to know what it was all about. Inuyasha pressed his face against the window but saw no one. On the counter sat a mortal and pestle and a set of measuring scales, much smaller than those used in grocery stores. Behind the counter were cabinets with about fifty little drawers, each one marked with Japanese characters.

When the shopkeeper, a middle-aged Japanese woman in a white lab coat, appeared from the backroom, Inuyasha stepped away.

What did she want with Japanese herbs? Why did it take five or ten minutes to prepare? Where did she go next, and why did it take an hour before she returned to Eastern Parkway?

He could see her up ahead. There was a block and a half between them. He took one step, another, and a broad Mother-May-I in her direction. Her skirt movement hypnotized him. The dance of her lean and sensual body made him forget she was a rape victim; she was a girl whose skirt swayed with the sea. Not only did she pull _him_ with her motion, but other men turned to watch her walk by.

Inuyasha wondered if she wore no bra and if her nipples showed against the fabric of her top. Picturing her body in detail made him erect, something hat happened seemingly all the time. Girl had aroused him before, but this was different. She was flesh. Warm. Angry. And he did not have to imagine her. He had seen her. Touched her.

The she stopped abruptly, and he froze, expecting her to turn around. Just as abruptly as she stopped, she continued, only now at a slightly faster pace.

'_What now?_' he thought. '_Run after her? Then what?_'_ He only wanted to know she was all right._ This is what he told himself as he walked faster to keep up with her.

She vaulted up the steps of some building in the next block. As he approached, he saw it was St. Augustine's, a Catholic church. A statue of St. Augustine, a black missionary in a long robe, held out welcoming arms. Inuyasha wiped his hands on his Bermudas, wiped his sweaty forehead and face on his shirt, and went up the steps to the Catholic church. he entered the church, but he did not want her to see him just yet, so he stepped into a little room off to the side. The entrance to the room was draped in a maroon velvet curtain. There was a dark screen before him that separated his little room from yet another.. before him were the words "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned" in English, Spanish, and French.

If he remained quiet, he would not be discovered. He would wait and peer out of the velvet curtain until the service was over. When she came out, he would talk to her.

Excluding his brother's wedding, it had been years since he had attended a church service. His mother was Episcopalian. He too was Episcopalian, back when he attended Holy Trinity on Fulton. That was three Easters ago. His mother was nom longer with him, and he hadn't been Episcopalian ever since. His brother had become a Rasta, the creed of his father. Now Sesshoumaru was married and a transit worker. Those were his religions. Work and Rin. He seemed less and less a brother.

The aroma of incense that drifted from the alter had found his hiding place. Through the slightly pulled-back drapes he watched a black priest say mass to the girl and mostly elderly men and women. The priest spoke and made hand gestures, raising his fingers to his forehead, lips, and heart. The parishioners responded in kind. Inuyasha tried to follow what was being said but could not, for the priest and the parishioners spoke in what he thought was French.

"Haitian," he said aloud. "She's Haitian."

He watched her make the sign of the cross, kneel and rise several times. When they sang hymns, he picked out her voice, which rose above those of the old people, the organists, and the priest. It was a voice that wore bright colors. She then took communion, her pride replaced with humility. When the mass was over, and the priest had left, she went to the alter of candles, took dollar bills from her backpack, and put them in a box. He watched as she lit the tallest candle and knelt, her head bowed, her back curved, legs extending in sandaled feet, making a number two in profile. She rose, dipped her fingers into a ceramic fount, and made the sign of the cross, touching her forehead, above her abdomen, then both sides of her chest. She repeated an anointing of her abdomen and pelvis-something no one else did. She then took a small vessel of some kind, dipped it into the fount, capped it, and placed it in her backpack. Each action she carried out with her head lowered.

Inuyasha had to get out of there. He slipped out of the confessional and left the church. She would be outside within seconds. While waiting for her in the parking lot, he had made up his mind. No more following her. When she came down the church steps, he would walk up to her and offer to walk her home.

She was awfully fast, or he wasn't as brave as he thought. She sped right past him and was halfway down the block by the time he saw her.

Inuyasha walked fast. His legs were longer than hers, and his stride was greater. He lost sight of her in front of him and was practically on top of her when she turned around.

"You!" she screamed. Even then accent was thick.

He was stunned, tongue-tied. before he could explain or apologize or ask if she was all right, she took off, the backpack bouncing against her. She never looked back.

Inuyasha vowed to leave her alone and to let her die in his mind. He would stop filling in his dream girl's face with her face. Her prayers, candles, and Japanese herbs were silly next to his vow.

Before he fell asleep that night, he faced the skirt nailed to his wall and said, "To hell with her."

_redfluffydice05_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha he belongs to Rumiko Takahashi._

**Warning**: Contains rape. And a possible lemon...-.-

Every Time A Rainbow Dies

**.:Four:.**

A hot one is what the DJ on the radio promised. Hotter than Hades, damp like mop water. Inuyasha felt it in the early morning as he watched his birds fly off. He felt the thickness surrounded him when he looked down on what would be, in about an hour, sheer madness. Police stationed barricades along Eastern Parkway. Vendors set up their tents and tables while revelers slowly filled the streets. Madness.

Carnival in Brooklyn-or, as the newspapers called it, the West Indian Day Parade-was nothing like carnival in Jamaica. Back in Jamaica, carnival went on for four days and nights. Calypso, socca, and reggae called dancers out into the streets. People gathered for parties in every home. It was a happy time. Even Daddy stopped working long enough to throw Inuyasha up on his shoulders to watch the festivities.

Up on Daddy's shoulders was a place reserved for Inuyasha alone. He played with Daddy's long hair and stuck his tongue out a Sesshoumaru down below. Riding high on Daddy's shoulders made him tall, tall like the men on stilts.

Sometimes he thought it all had been a dream. Being too little to climb trees with Sesshoumaru, being chased by a neighbors goat, or looking up at green hills, as high and far as his eyes could see. Even Daddy, tall and soft-spoken, always smelling of black licorice, seemed like a dream man.

If he had been older than three when he, Mommy, and Sesshoumaru left Jamaica, he would still have his fathers ways and voice cut firmly into his memory. He envied Sesshoumaru for having know Daddy and for showing off the things Daddy had taught him, such as how to start up a car, change a fuse, or pound a nail square on with his hammer.

In spite of the photographs of Daddy stationed throughout their home, and all of Mommy's recollections, Daddy remained clouded in smoke and green hills. He had been told that Daddy was "a fine carpenter" and that he built the best cabinets, tables, and coffins in St. Catherine. He had been told that Daddy was the youngest of eight sons and, like Inuyasha, was his mother's favorite. He knew a great many things about his father, though none of these things brought him closer to his memory. It was only at carnival time that the image of Daddy, the feel of his hair, the licorice chew stick in his mouth, the _clomp-ca-lomp_ of his work boots, and his singing as he worked, became clear.

When they first came to Brooklyn, Auntie Desna, who was not a relation but a woman from Mommy's village, took them into her home on Bedford Avenue. In those early days Inuyasha stayed posted at the door, watching for those work boots to _ca-lomp_ through the door. Either Mommy led him away from the door and said, "Daddy will follow," or Sesshoumaru would hit him for behaving like a baby.

That summer Auntie Desna told them about the West Indian Day Parade. She promised them a good time, saying the parade "will bring you back home." when Inuyasha saw and heard the familiar things, the men on stilts, the steel drums, the reggae, the dancers in mas, he was sure Daddy would come to him, as he always had, out of the green hills. Year after year Inuyasha searched the crowd to see if daddy was out there, caught in the pushing and dancing. Many a time he tore himself from his mother or from Sesshoumaru to go running after some longhaired man, only to be disappointed. The last time he ran after a stranger, Mommy grabbed him and shook him and said firmly-for she never meant to repeat herself-"I begged Daddy to come, but he wouldn't leave. Once Daddy stuck in his safe place, he'll not budge."

Daddy had sent money from time to time and occasionally a card for birthdays. He even sent Inuyasha toy animals that he had carved from scrapes of wood. But Inuyasha could not remember the last time he had actually spoken to his father. And that was what he wanted. To hear his father's voice.

Inuyasha looked down n the madness, determined to stay above it. The two times that he felt compelled to come down were both because of her, and he would never be so compelled again. Not after she had run from him when all he wanted was to...

He wasn't sure.

_redfluffydice05_


End file.
